Keep your enemies close and your Horcruxes closer
by HippoParty
Summary: Harry would never have written in Tom Riddle's Diary if he'd known it was going to pull him back in time. Let alone, if the person he was about to befriend was a young Dark Lord.


" _I can show you, if you like,"_ came Riddle's reply. _"You don't have to take my word for it."_

Harry hesitated, his quill suspended over the diary. What did Riddle mean?

He glanced nervously at the door to the dormitory. When Harry looked back at the diary, he saw fresh words forming.

" _Let me show you."_

Harry paused for a fraction of a second and then wrote two letters.

"OK."

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping early in the month of December 1943.

With his hands trembling slightly, Harry held the diary close, anxious to see what else it would reveal. But no ink appeared, and if anything Harry's stomach twisted as he was left staring at empty pages.

And then a plummeting sensation ripped through him, throwing Harry forwards. Harry gasped, diary slipping from his fingers as everything went dark.

* * *

Light flooded into Harry's vision as his knees buckled, giving way as he landed in a crumbled heap on a carpeted floor.

But despite Harry's undignified entrance and his spinning head, he recognised his new location immediately. Dozens of portraits lined the rounded walls and Harry pulled himself up quickly, noting an old wizard was sitting where Dumbledore would usually be.

"I'm sorry," Harry said shakily, "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

The old wizard looked up surprised, setting aside the letter he was reading as he peered across his desk, squinting in the candle light.

"How did you get in here?" said the old wizard in a feeble voice.

"I'm not sure-"

There was a knock on the door and the wizard looked away from Harry.

"Enter," he croaked.

A boy about sixteen entered. A silver prefect's badge was glinting on his chest. He was much taller then Harry, but he, too, had jet-black hair.

"Ah, Riddle," said the Headmaster.

Harry practically jumped at this.

Riddle's eyes swept over Harry, before he positioned them back to the Headmaster.

"You wanted to see me, Professor Dippet?" said Riddle.

"Ah, yes, I did. Although, perhaps now isn't the best time," Dippet said, wrinkled brow furrowing.

"Professor-?" Riddle's eyes found Harry again.

Harry fidgeted under their stares.

"Umm, I don't know what happened," Harry began. "I don't think I'm meant to be here."

Dippet raised his head, old eyes looking right through him.

"And where are you meant to be, Mr...?"

"Potter, Harry Potter, sir." Harry swallowed awkwardly before taking the plunge. "Umm, I'm meant to be in the future, I think."

Dippet looked surprised and the portraits peered eagerly down at Harry.

"You've travelled back in time?" Dippet asked.

"I think so," Harry nodded.

He wasn't comforted when Dippet didn't respond. Instead it was Riddle who spoke.

"How far in the future?" he looked genuinely intrigued, head tilting as he surveyed Harry more thoroughly.

"50 years," Harry said, he then realised his mistake as he bit his lip.

"That's very precise," Riddle stated raising his eyebrows.

The headmaster too, seemed to have come to the same conclusion.

"What were you doing?" Dippet asked, his voice sharp despite his feeble voice.

"I, umm, nothing," Harry fumbled. He didn't want to get Riddle into trouble. Harry could only hope the diary would take him back soon. "I was sitting in my dormitory and the next thing I know I'm here."

Harry expected Dippet to be angry, but instead he looked towards Riddle, before back to Harry. He let out a heavy sigh.

"I must admit, it is encouraging to see a Hogwarts uniform," Dippet said tiredly. "These are dark days after all, very dark days. I had fears the school would close."

Harry's heart skipped a beat, shock reverberating through him.

"Because of the Chamber of Secrets you mean?"

Dippet's old eyes widened as he sat up and Riddle seemed to stiffen.

"What do you know, Potter?" Dippet said, he looked deeply concerned.

Harry shook his head hurriedly, hands held out in front of him.

"The attacks are happening again, sir. At Hogwarts, in my time."

It was Riddle who responded most to this, and Harry couldn't place the odd look on his face caught in the flickering candlelight.

"The Chamber has been reopened?" he said quickly.

Harry's scar twinged. Harry's hand flew to his head, pressing it hard against his temple.

"Yes," Harry muttered, distracted. "And it's been attacking muggleborns-"

Dippet however, sunk back in his chair, pulling a hand over his tired face.

"I was referring more so to the war, but this is very unfortunate, very unfortunate indeed."

Harry blinked, knot suddenly tightening in his stomach. Why had his scar hurt?

But Dippet was already rambling on.

"Very unfortunate, but the perpetrator has been caught, the monster scared away- "

Harry perked up as he rubbed his forehead. He looked to Riddle, but Riddle didn't quite meet his eye.

"Who was it-" he started.

"It is late," Dippet muttered deliberately. "We would do better to discuss these matters in the morning. If you are still here that is."

"I-" Harry blinked, thrown by the sudden change in topic. "You think I'll just go back, sir?"

"It's certainly a possibility, but for now we'll have to make do, time travel is a bit of an odd subject," Dippet eyed up Harry's robes again. "Gryffindor is it? Mr Riddle, would you please escort Mr Potter to his common room. It would be unwise to leave a first year roaming around on his own."

"I'm second year," Harry bit out.

Dippet battered his frail hand. "The password is Bubotuber."

"Sir, I'd still very much like to speak with you?" Riddle added, his voice had an odd edge to it.

"Very well. Mr Potter, if you could please wait outside."

* * *

Harry didn't have to wait long. Not five minutes later did Riddle appear.

"You were lying," Riddle said as soon as he'd stepped down the spiral staircase.

The corridor wasn't much brighter than Professor Dippet's office, but now Riddle was closer he towered over Harry, his eyes flicked up to Harry's scar.

"I don't know what you're talking about-" Harry started as he hurried to flatten his hair.

Riddle's gaze lingering on Harry's forehead, and he didn't say anything for a short while.

"How did you come to be here?" Riddle asked, voice soft.

Harry shuffled. He decided the truth was probably the best thing to say if he was going to have any chance at getting home.

"Well I didn't time travel intentionally, that was your fault," Harry said, jabbing a finger at Riddle.

Whatever Riddle had expected Harry to say, it certainly wasn't this. He fixed Harry with a look Harry couldn't quite place before beckoning him to move away from the headmaster's office.

"I bought you here?" Riddle asked slowly.

Harry nodded, taking double steps to keep up with Riddle's long strides. "It was your diary, I mean, what kind of diary pulls people back in time?"

Now Riddle looked genuinely surprised as his eyes widened slightly. His mouth parted and he seemed slightly lost for words only for a moment.

"My diary bought you back in time fifty years?"

Harry nodded again as they passed a couple of sleeping portraits.

"I was just writing in it and well you were writing back-" Harry hurried.

"I appreciate that you didn't tell Professor Dippet," Riddle interrupted suddenly, his voice so quiet that Harry could barely hear it above their footsteps. "However, I need you to swear you will not mention my diary again. Do you understand, Harry?"

"Why?" Harry frowned.

Riddle tugged at his own sleeve as he glanced back down the empty corridor, his pace quickened and Harry was let struggling to keep up.

"If I have bought you back through time that could get me in lot of trouble," Riddle said. "Not to mention if the ministry get involved they won't be very happy with you-"

Riddle had a horrible point.

"I won't tell anyone," Harry said, he then looked sheepish as he ran a hand through his hair. "Although, I could do with some help getting home?"

Riddle frowned. He didn't answer at first, and if anything an eerie sort of quiet seemed to have come over him. His pace slowed.

"I have to admit I'm unsure how. Time travel is years beyond my knowledge, Harry," Riddle said.

Harry couldn't help but feel crestfallen.

"But you must know?" Your diary managed, and it said it was a memory of your sixteen year old self?"

"Did it now?" Riddle murmured, he was eyeing the sleeping portraits on the walls now, and Harry wasn't even sure if he was listening.

"Your diary said you caught the person responsible for opening the chamber," Harry rushed. "It said you'd show me, that's how I ended up here."

Here Riddle paused briefly, coming to a standstill completely as one of the large staircases swung into place. He was looking at Harry very carefully now as if he wasn't quite sure what to make of him.

"That was over six months ago, Harry," Riddle said softly. "I'm seventeen at the end of this month."

Harry's mouth fell open, waves of shock crashing over him. Not only had Riddle's diary pulled him back in time, it hadn't even managed to do it properly.

The staircase clicked into place and Harry followed numbly, head spinning as Riddle lead him through another corridor to where the entrance to the Gryffindor common room was.

"You should get inside your dormitory, Harry." Riddle said. "It's dangerous to be out in the corridors at night."

"Wait, stop," Harry said hurriedly, a delayed sense of panic flooding through him, "But who did it? Who opened the chamber?"

"I have been forbade from telling the truth, Harry. If Professor Dippet did not see fit to tell you, then I'm afraid I cannot indulge you."

Riddle's diary had also said he'd been sworn to secrecy, but Harry hadn't expected this. What was the point in the diary pulling him back in time if no one was going to tell him anything.

"But what if I can't get back to my time until I find out-"

But Riddle seemed to have lost his patience.

"Go inside," he repeated. "Or do I need to put you in detention?"

Harry opened his mouth to argue, before he shut it again in annoyance, glaring at Riddle's prefect badge.

* * *

Tom watched with cold eyes as the Gryffindor portrait swung shut. Now this changed everything.

* * *

Harry woke late the next morning, eyes blinking open as he rolled over to what should have been a mass of red hair sticking out of the adjacent bed.

Harry's stomach twisted. He'd hoped he'd have gone back home already, but Riddle's diary seemed content in keeping him here. Harry sighed and pulled himself up, noticing that a fresh pair of clothes had been laid out at the end of his bed.

And it wasn't the lack of familiar faces that continued to remain unsettling. Hogwarts had never felt so different.

Harry walked down to the great hall in a daze. The corridors felt enclosed with their candles burning dimly and the students hurried past in small groups.

The only thing that was a relief, was the distinct lack of stares. There was no one muttering behind his back, no fingers pointing in his direction accusing him of plotting to attack anyone else.

But that did little to settle Harry as he stepped into the Great Hall trying to press down his growing anxiety.

"So you must be Mr Potter?"

Harry spun around, and his eyes fixed onto a familiar face.

"Professor Dumbledore," Harry breathed. He'd never been happier to see the old headmaster. Except he wasn't old any more. Dumbledore looked much younger and had sweeping auburn hair.

Dumbledore returned Harry's smile.

"From your response, I take it I haven't given up teaching?"

"No, sir," Harry beamed.

Dumbledore nodded and held out his hand to guide Harry back into the Entrance Hall.

"I'm sorry to drag you away from what would have been an excellent breakfast," he said. "But I'm afraid there are an assortment of very important people waiting for you in the Headmaster's office."

* * *

Dippet's office was swarmed with numerous witches and wizards, all dressed in a different array of coloured robes.

"Ah, thank you, Albus," Dippet weezed, before gesturing for Harry to step forwards. "Mr Potter, these wizards and witches are from the Ministry of Magic."

Harry shuffled forwards reluctantly.

"And this is Minister Moon," Dippet introduced, gesturing to a very burly looking wizard with a large moustache.

Harry looked towards Dumbledore again who nodded in greeting to the minister.

"It seems Mr Potter is familiar with me, Leonard," he said.

At the expectant looks Harry swallowed.

"He's headmaster in my time."

A wizard to the side noted something down with his quill.

"Still not interested in politics, Albus?" Minister Moon said gruffly.

"I must say it's a relief-"

But another man interrupted. One who looked very different from the rest of the robed wizards. He was dressed in loose dull robes and had back hair which was tied back.

He walked up and prodded Harry in the arm.

"So what's the cover story, an illegitimate Potter?" he said. "My mother always loved a good scandal."

"That's certainly plausible," Minister Moon answered. "Although it's unusual for purebloods to pop up out of nowhere."

"I'm sorry?" Harry said, looking between the two.

The man flashed him a smile and winked at him.

"You could easily be my secret younger brother."

Harry's breath caught in his throat.

"We're related?" He'd never met another magical relative before.

"That is to be seen," a small witch stated promptly. "Come here, both of you."

Harry stepped forwards and held out his hand as instructed. The witch drew her wand and tapped it sharply on Harry's outstretched fingers. A single drop of blood fell from his palm and landed on the parchment. Similarly, the man also held out his hand.

As soon as the second drop of blood fell, the parchment immediately sparked to life. Lines tracing lines as branches shot off in every direction. Harry stared in amazement as his family history began to develop in an instant.

The young man leaned forward.

"Ah, now that's interesting," he read. "You're one of Fleamont's?"

Harry glanced at his own name which had appeared right at the bottom of the parchment above this was his fathers, underneath the neat scrawl of Fleamont and Euphemia Potter.

"I guess," Harry shrugged. "I didn't know my grandparents."

"Mmm, I'm not surprised, Fleamont is getting on as it is. I'm this one," the man pointed towards another neat scrawl labelled Charles Potter.

Harry scanned the expanse of names, amazed by the sheer number of links. He didn't know anything about his family tree, aside from the smiling faces in the mirror of erised.

"Well, at least we can establish one thing," Dumbledore said with a smile at Harry. "Mr Potter is indeed from the future."

Harry was still eyeing up the parchment which seemed to go back generations.

"So, what happens now?" Charles asked. "I can get hold of Fleamont and Euphemia fairly easily."

Minister Moon shook his head.

"That won't be necessary. The fewer people who know of Potter's true existence the better."

"Naturally," another Ministry official said. "To draw attention to the boy would only interest Grindelwald. We cannot leave him unattended."

"It is for the best if the boy stays at Hogwarts and continues with his studies for the immediate future. If his stay is prolonged then we shall make appropriate arrangements."

"Wait?" Harry started, heart hammering at the rush of conversation. "You're leaving me here?"

A number of piercing eyes fixed on to him.

"Time is a delicate thing. It should not be tampered with. If you have broken it and come here. Then there is little we can do," the Minister said gruffly.

"If we knew more about your circumstances for arrival, then we may be in with a chance of something," the witch who had taken Harry's blood added.

Harry tried not to fidget, hating how unfamiliar everything in the room felt. Even Dumbledore's twinkling blue eyes did little to settle him. Was he really going to be stuck here for as long as the diary decided.

"It is no inconvenience of course," Dippet croaked. "We can provide accommodation and lessons until Mr Potter returns home."

Charles shrugged. "I guess that works out. There isn't really much else I can do for you then?"

Harry swallowed. By the sounds of it, no one thought he was going to leave. The wizard with the quill scribbled something down again.

"Well that sorts that bit out," Dippet said as he placed his hands together. "Mr Potter will continue to stay in Gryffindor house. Albus, could you please provide Mr Potter with a relevant timetable and books."

Harry stood awkwardly, unsure if he was being excused. However, it seemed they weren't finished yet. Minister Moon stepped forwards and placed a firm grip on Harry's shoulder, steering him into a chair in front of Dippet's desk.

"Mr Potter, we have a couple of further questions, if you please?"

Harry sat down with the distinct feeling like he'd done something wrong.

There was a pause, and Harry hated how claustrophobic the room suddenly felt. Even the surrounding portraits were straining their ears to hear.

"Professor Dippet informed us that the Chamber of Secrets has been reopened in your own time?" Minister Moon said.

Harry nodded.

"If you could state your answer, Mr Potter," the wizard with the quill interjected.

"Umm, yes," Harry said.

The wizard at once scribbled on the parchment.

"And there have been a number of attacks on students?"

"Yes," Harry hurried. "Something's been attacking muggleborns. It's been turning them to stone. It attacked Nearly Headless Nick too."

It was like a ripple effect, their faces paled as a look of confusion passed between a few. Even Dumbledore looked very concerned as he ran his hand through his short auburn beard.

"It can effect ghosts?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded, throat dry as he remembered finding the black ghostly figure. "But Professor Dippet said the attacks here, they've stopped?" Harry added tentatively.

"The matter has been dealt with," the Minister said.

"But-" Harry started.

"And there is nothing we can do regarding the events in the future," the witch added with a matter of fact nod.

"I know that, but who-"

But they were already moving on as the burly minister stepped forwards, pointing with his wand loosely to where Harry sat. Harry jerked back in his chair, he didn't understand why they were being so odd about it.

Minister Moon however, only cleared his throat.

"This may be hard for you to answer, Mr Potter, but it is crucial you tell us everything you know about Grindelwald?"

Everyone's gazes seemed to sharpen. And Harry had a feeling this was the real reason they were here.

"The dark wizard?" Harry asked.

Charles snorted from where he was leaning against Dippet's desk.

"That's a good start," he added with a smile at Harry.

The ministry officials if anything looked relieved.

"Go on," the minister encouraged.

"I grew up with muggles," Harry shrugged. "I don't really know that much."

Now Charles frowned, his gaze suddenly shadowed.

"You grew up with muggles?" he said sharply.

Harry shrugged.

"My parents died, my mum's sister raised me."

They didn't press any further, but Charles did not look happy about this at all.

"When did the muggle war end?" Dumbledore asked.

"Umm, 1945," Harry answered.

They all looked anguished.

"Two years," someone muttered, hand running over their face. "This war will last two more years."

Harry's stomach churned. He hadn't expected to land in the middle of a wizard war. Let alone one which was before Voldemort's time.

"Is Grindelwald defeated?" Minister Moon asked gruffly.

"Careful now," someone else interjected. "Knowing that answer may change the course of the war."

"Or that we are meant to find out today," Minister Moon quipped back, he was still fixed solely on Harry.

Harry glanced away and chewed his lip. Dumbledore had defeated Grindelwald, but that felt so out of place when he was at Hogwarts teaching transfiguration.

But Harry was interrupted by Dumbledore himself.

"I think it best that you do not answer that question, Mr Potter."

Harry nodded, he just hoped he didn't have Dumbledore's chocolate frog card stuffed somewhere in his pockets.

Fortunately, they were distracted by a knock on the door.

It was Riddle.

"Professors," Riddle nodded towards Dippet and Dumbledore.

"Ah, yes. Tom Riddle, he's one of our top students. He was present when Mr Potter appeared last night," Dippet announced, his voice barely carrying around the room. "I thought it best for Mr Riddle here to keep an eye on Mr Potter. Help him adjust so to speak."

Riddle stepped forwards and placed a hand on the back of Harry's chair. Minister Moon took a step back, he didn't look to happy as he fixed Dumbledore with an unfriendly look.

"I'm certain Mr Potter won't have any problems, sir," Riddle said, seemingly ignorant to the rising tensions in the room.

For Harry, at least spending time with Riddle might be a good thing. He might have a better chance at finding out who opened the Chamber and maybe eventually the diary would decide to return him home.

"Anyway, Mr Potter, you may leave," Dippet said. "Unless you have anything you would like to tell us?"

Harry thought back to the disembodied voice. If Riddle had indeed caught the heir, then surely he wouldn't hear it again in this time.

"No sir."

* * *

No sooner had they stepped out of the headmaster's office did Riddle turn to him again. It was just like last night, that piercing stare looking right through him.

"Lying is a terrible habit, Harry," Riddle said.

Harry scowled at him. "I'm not lying."

"You know something about the attacks?" Riddle said quietly, "Something you are keeping from the ministry?"

"I don't," Harry wasn't about to admit that he was the number one suspect in his own time. But Riddle's gaze didn't leave him.

Harry glared straight back.

"Anyway, it's over here isn't it? You caught them, why would you care? No one else seems to," Harry pointed back up in the direction of the spiral staircase.

For whatever Riddle seemed to let this comment pass, eyes lighting up in cold amusement.

"You're enrolling as a student then?" Riddle asked instead.

"I am a student," Harry scowled. "And I don't need you looking after me."

"And I don't intend to look after you," Riddle said, which Harry was relieved to hear. "However, I do feel personally responsible for you. It is due to my actions why you are here."

"You already said you don't know how to send me home," Harry said coldly. His situation just seemed to be getting worse.

"True," Riddle said. "However, that was last night."

Harry looked up, anger lessening.

"Although I'll need some time," Riddle added. "It might take me a few weeks."

"Weeks?" Harry said, heart sinking again. "I can't stay here for weeks."

"If I don't return you home, then you can tell the ministry about my diary," Riddle said. "Anyway, a few weeks in 1943 is still the same as a few weeks in 1993."

"My friends are back home," Harry protested.

"Well I could try and attempt to send you back now," Riddle said. "However, with regards to your own well being I cannot yet guarantee your safety in the matter. You could end up without a head for all I know."

Harry's stomach twisted at this.

"Fine, although I'd rather keep my head, thanks."

Riddle nodded, before he then tilted his head. He had that odd look in his eye, and Harry didn't particularly like it much.

"I was meaning to ask you last night, do you have my diary with you?" he asked softly.

Harry shook his head.

"It sort of just sucked me in, I think."

Riddle was silent, it was almost like he didn't believe him again.

"No matter," Riddle said at last. "Anyway you're late for class. You won't gain any favours with the Professors if you don't hurry along."

"I just got here! And Professor Dumbledore hasn't even given me a timetable yet."

Riddle just gave Harry a firm glance as he gestured for him to follow. Harry scowled, shoving his hands into his pockets as he trudged after Riddle.

* * *

Despite all the intrigue from his fellow classmates, and the fact that Harry was beginning to feel horrible homesick, he actually had quite an enjoyable first day. The potions master was a Professor Slughorn, and although he kept sidling over to Harry to asked in a hushed voices if he knew any of his existing students who were famous witches and wizards, he was a lot better than Snape.

And Dumbledore's class had been good too. He certainly wasn't as strict as Professor McGonagall, and he did have a certain flare for the dramatics, but otherwise Harry couldn't help but feel that his short time stuck in the past wouldn't be so bad after all.

* * *

Tom however, was having a very different day. He'd been totally and utterly distracted by the boy and his essay for Professor Merrythought remained unwritten before him.

Tom looked up to see five pairs of eyes fixed on him. They were sitting, tucked away in the corner of the library, hidden away from the prying eyes of the nosy librarian.

"It is unusual for you to be so unfocused. Is something bothering you?" Lestrange asked.

Tom sat back, setting his quill aside as he examined Marvolo's black and gold ring on his hand. He didn't need to indulge them in an answer, but it was necessary.

"It's Potter," Tom said quietly.

"Ah, see I've been wondering about that as well," Avery smirked pushing aside his own book. "To learn ones future is certainly tempting."

"His memories should be easy enough to extract," Rosier agreed with a crooked grin. "Restraining a second year is child's play."

The others broke out into conversation, but there was more going on then first appeared. Last night, Tom had only told the others to keep an eye on the boy, but if Potter had knowledge of the chamber it would only cause complications.

"No one shall touch the boy," Tom said coolly.

The others looked visibly surprised by this statement, and Lestrange ducked his head low.

"Naturally, we would only act on your behalf," he stated carefully.

Tom surveyed his most loyal followers. Each and everyone of them could be trusted, they alone had kept their silence on the Chamber. But this was far more significant.

"No, you misunderstand," Tom said softly.

Tom flicked his wand, ensuring that this particular conversation could not be overheard.

Lestrange, Avery, Rosier, Nott and Dolohov all waited silently, but their interest was apparent.

They barely knew hints about Tom's research. And the full extent of his accomplishments they would never know, but Tom could not do this alone, not when so much was at risk.

"Potter belongs to me, my soul is his," Tom said.

This was not the explanation they had been expecting.

Dolohov raised an eyebrow, whereas Avery's own eyes widened slightly. It was Rosier however, who frowned, disbelief apparent.

"You are certain-"

He never got to finish, as Tom's wand twitched, curse silent as the atmosphere shifted.

Rosier hissed, fingers clamped onto the desk as his eyes rolled, screams on his lips as his suffering remained silent.

No one interrupted. They would not dare.

It was only when Tom lifted his curse did Lestrange speak.

"How is that possible?" he rushed.

Tom turned his attention away from Rosier, who let out deep heavy breaths as he composed himself, slumping against the table.  
"I don't know," Tom said, fingers flexing instinctively as he glanced back at the ring on his hand. "I can feel the boys emotions, coursing through me. We are bound together, I have never been surer."

No one said anything to this as Tom's eyes shined in triumph.

He had pressed upon the theory, dug deep into the darkest arts to find his answers. Even his readings and the hints from Slughorn had merely been theoretical, but this was further proof. Proof that his research would continue to be fruitful, that seven were truly achievable.

But then of course there was the real problem at hand. One which needed immediate attention and for which Tom needed eyes and ears around the castle.

"The chamber is being reopened in the future," Tom said as he leaned forwards, wand still in hand as he observed them all carefully.

"Ah," Nott cottoned on, crossing his arms. "Potter?"

Tom nodded sharply.

"I believe so, Potter certainly knows more than he is letting on."

The boy had lied to the ministry so easily and Tom was sure he hadn't been completely truthful with him.

"You said Potter is interested in finding the person responsible?" Dolohov asked lightly.

Rosier, although still pale and shaking, shared an amused look with Nott at this, as the other's smirked.

"Yes," Tom said. "Potter said that was why he was here, that I would show him what happened."

"I suppose that may explain his reluctance to talk to you," Nott mumbled.

That caught everyone's attention as Nott casually flicked a page of his book. At Tom's nod, he continued. "If Potter is opening the Chamber in the future, he will only be loyal to the heir, perhaps he thought he could warn them of your intentions?"

Tom stared at this, surely Potter would be aware but Nott had another very good point.

"Potter didn't recognise you?" he asked.

"No," Tom said. "At least not by this name."

There was a lingering silence, they all knew what this meant.

"So Potter is looking for the heir," Tom said, hand coming to rest on his chin as he pressed a finger to his lips. "I guess that explains his desire to learn who I framed."

That was an interesting development, but it also made Potter dangerous, very dangerous.

As there was the reason Tom's diary had bought the boy to him in the first place.

If Tom did not approach the situation carefully enough, if Potter merely hinted that the true heir had not been caught then all of Tom's hard work would be undone.

And Potter clearly didn't trust him, not after his diary had stranded him in the past. No, Tom had to be sure of the boys true loyalties, his true intentions before he confided in the boy.

Tom fixed them all with a very hard stare. "It would be devastating if the Chamber was opened outside of my control. The consequences will be severe if Potter is caught."

Lestrange smirked, intrigue apparent as he pulled out his own wand.

"What are your orders, My Lord?"


End file.
